


Seasons of mist and mellow fruitfulness

by eenimeeniminimo



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Death, DreamSMP - Freeform, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Good Parent Wilbur Soot, Hurt/Comfort, Single Parents, but also bad parent wilbur soot, it's complicated - Freeform, l'manberg
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:21:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eenimeeniminimo/pseuds/eenimeeniminimo
Summary: When Fundy is born Wilbur is left alone to raise a child in a world that doesn't care. He aims to be the best father he can be, to care for and protect his son no matter what, to be there whenever Fundy needs it.But like they say: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.(Or in this case, the road to ghosthood is paved with the difficult choices of being a father)
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Niki | Nihachu & Wilbur Soot, No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	Seasons of mist and mellow fruitfulness

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: if any creators express discomfort with fics of this nature i will take this down straight away
> 
> This was created because I saw a distinct lack of good father wilbur fics and i aim to fix that (kinda)
> 
> The time period this is set in is kinda ambiguous. They have running water and apartments but no electricity or baby formula so...  
> Look there are walking skeletons okay? This world just don't make sense.
> 
> Also i am a childless person so if I get something wrong please correct me. I have researched but i might still mess up with how the do parent things!
> 
> Anyway, let's go

"I'm sorry, she's gone"

The midwife's sallow face had gone pale and her hard eyes had gone soft. "I'm sorry for your loss" she continued gently.

Wilbur stood in silent shock.

It couldn't be, not Sally. Sally was strong, she was passionate and was curious and brave. He could remember how when they'd found out about her pregnancy her eyes had lit up and sparkled with joy.

He just, he just couldn't believe it.

"Can I- can I see the- my baby?" he asked, his voice thick and broken.

The midwife nodded and turned sharply. "Of course, follow me" she said. Her voice was suspiciously tight.

Wilbur was led into a dark room. It stank of dull iron, bitter milk and the dark scent of death.

"The baby is over there" the nurse pointed to the corner of the room, "Congratulations, it's a boy" Wilbur could hardly hear that last bit as static filled his ears.

Over in his peripheral vision he could see a figure lying still, the slightest hint of dull copper hair falling out from beneath the sheets. Wilbur forced his head to turn. His eyes were burning and wet.

In the corner of the room stood a drab and threadbare cot. And in it-

In it was his son.

The one who had killed his sally.

Anger quickly rose within him. The bastard had killed Sally, his love. Because of it he would never see her ginger hair shine again in the sun or hear her playful words as she jokes with him

He gripped the old, sterile cot so hard that his knuckles were white. Clenching his teeth he looked over at his, his son.

oh.

_Oh._

He was perfect.

His face was tiny and small, with oversized fox like ears protruding from his fluffy face. When his eyes slowly creeped open Wilbur could see their dark, dark brown depths.

He had Sally's eyes.

"Your wife didn't have the chance to name him before she..." the midwife paused, "before she passed". Wilbur couldn't help but stare at the still lifeless body lying on their bed. "Did you two discuss any ideas about a name?"

The air was still.

Wilbur licked his dry lips. "She um-" he stopped, "she has- had one name in mind." He looked down at his fox like son and the baby gurgled at him. His eyes were so bright.

"Fundy." Cold air swirled around him as Wilbur sharply turned towards the midwife and looked her in the eyes. "She wanted to call him Fundy." His voice was shaky, but sure.

"Fundy." the old midwife mused before nodding, "Fundy" she repeated, "I'll be sure to note that down, sir."

The air was still and silent.

___________

Wilbur looked up at the huge mahogany doors in front of him and took in a deep, shaky breath. In his arms Fundy gurgled and his massive fox ears twitched. Looking down at his son Wilbur couldn't help but let out a soft smile. He reached out and gently stroked Fundy's furry cheeks.

"What do you want?" a cold voice spat. Flinching wilbur turned back towards the doors.

In the entryway stood a portly man. His dark red mustache trembled slightly and his eyes were dark as he glared at wilbur. Next to him stood a tall, willowy woman who's eyes were blank and emotionless.

"I just thought" Wilbur paused and nervously wet his dry lips, "I thought you would like to meet your grandson?" He lifted Fundy up slightly turning him so that the pair could see the baby. Wilbur looked at his son and away from their dark stares. "His name is-

"WHY WOULD WE WANT TO MEET HIM?" Wilbur stepped back in shock as he was interrupted by a loud bellow. Sally's father glared at him, his eyes almost black and filled with fire.

"I'm sorry?" He asked quietly, bringing Fundy closer to himself.

"I said" the man stepped forward and looked over Wilbur and Fundy, "why would we want to meet him?" Looking down at Fundy, his lips turned up, "Look at it. It's disfigured."

Wilbur took a step back. Piercing through his shock he could feel a deep and hot anger rise within him. Taking a deep breath in Wilbur tried to remain civil. These were his sons grandparent's after all.

"You shouldn't say such things." Wilbur said. He hated how his voice shook. "Fundy is beautiful, just the way he is."

"Beautiful?" The man scoffed, "Beautiful!?" He repeated, louder this time, "My DAUGHTER WAS BEAUTIFUL. This, this MONSTER killed her!" He spat, eyes burning as he glared at wilbur, "she's DEAD. She's GONE. And it's all because of that- that THING you have in your arms."

A hot feeling smoldered in Wilburs stomach.

"I loved sally too." Wilbur said, his voice hard as nails. "I loved her more then anything but-"

"You." Eyes flashing and voice dark the man continued, ignoring Wilbur, "I knew we should have kept her away from you. I knew you weren't safe." He jabbed a stocky finger into Wilburs chest. "My daughter was innocent, loving and pure" Wilbur could see the man's red rimmed eyes sparkle with unshed tears, "and you killed her"

Everything fell quiet with only the man's loud shaky breaths filling the air.

"Stay away from me." the man said quietly, all the fight drained from him. "Just stay away". With that sally's father, Fundy's grandfather wearily turned inside, wobbling as he did so.

In his arms, Wilbur could feel Fundy move a bit and could hear a small gurgle rise from the thick swaddle of blankets.

"I'm sorry for my husband." Wilbur looked up at Sally's mother. Her gaze was blank and emotionless, silver hair in a tight bun atop her head.

Wilbur said nothing, shifting Fundy closer to himself.

"He's very emotional with everything going on." She continued regardless. Her cold blue eyes pinned Wilbur in place.

"I see." Wilbur responded shortly, his voice cold and throat tight.

A loud silence filled the space between the two.

"You're going to want to get out of this town." The woman said, her voice cutting through the thick quiet. "It's a small place here and not a kind one" she said. Her tone was very matter of fact and cold, cold, cold.

"What do you mean?" Wilbur asked. His voice was quiet and he shifted his son in his arms.

The woman paused for a second and her gaze shifted up to the blue empty sky before snapping back to look at him.

"Your son is different." She said bluntly, "People here won't like that." She paused for a moment, considering her words, "Sally was well liked and loved. I have no doubt news of her death will travel quickly". Icy, gray eyes stared at Wilbur meaningfully.

"There's a city a few miles west of here. About a week on foot." Sally's mother reached into her coats' fur pockets and produced a heavy bag uneven bag. She threw the bag at Wilbur and he caught it with his free hand. Shifting Fundy, Wilbur opened up the suspicious bag.

Coins.

And a lot of them.

"That should be able to afford you a place in the city and sort after your basic amenities until you find your footing." Wilbur stood still in shock, clutching the bag of coins in his hand.

"Why are you doing this?" His voice thick with shock and tinged with suspicion.

Sally's mother chuckled to herself and stared at the town beyond wilbur.

"I don't care about you." She started and her eyes flicked to Fundy, "or your son. But-" the woman paused, and blinked slowly, "I loved my daughter." She said surely, "I really did."

She looked at Wilbur again, and for the first time her eyes had a gentle nature to them.

"My daughter loved you and she would love your son. I can't, in good conscience, forget that" Sally's mother said.

"I don't like you Wilbur Soot. I think I hate you" she said calmly, "but for Sally's sake-" she stopped and heavy quiet filled the air.

For a few minutes the two stood in silence.

Sally's mother turned and stepped into her house before pausing.

"I may not like you Wilbur, but my daughter saw something in you. She had good judgement. Don't let her memory down." With that the woman walked inside and dark mahogany doors fell shut behind her.

Fundy shifted in wilburs arms and when Wilbur looked down at him his son peered back. There was a strange intelligence behind his shiny brown eyes.

Sinking to the floor, Wilbur let out a shaky sigh.

His son, his beautiful gorgeous son stared up at him and Wilbur felt his heart tear as his son innocently yawned before snuggling into his blankets, eyes closing.

How anyone could want to hurt his innocent, wonderful son - it made Wilburs heart throb just thinking about it. A dark bitter feeling rose within him. If anyone even touched his son-

Wilbur let out another breath and stared up at the wide expanse of sky.

It was so empty. It was so cold.

Wilbur shivered and brought his sleeping son close to himself.

______________

Packing up their things might have been one of the harder things Wilbur had to do.

On one hand he couldn't wait to get out of this house. It smelt like bitterness and death, even if the body had been moved from the house days ago.

Wilbur had been sleeping on the couch.

He couldn't bring himself to sleep on the bed.

There were a lot of memories tied to the small house.

In the corner of the room Wilbur could see doodles on the wall that Sally had made when they first moved in. On the table sat a reminder of Sally's due date and other random papers. In the kitchen was his old guitar and the space where he would pluck at the strings and sally would dance.

The house was so quiet now.

Ripping his eyes away from the house Wilbur had to focus on the backpack in front of him.

 _'Toys, dummy, milk, clothes, food'_ He repeated to himself, checking to make sure said items were in there.

He was dressed in multiple layers with a large brown coat on top. A coat that Sally had bought for him. Wilbur clutched the coat close and clenched his eyes shut, forcing back tears.

Shaking his head, Wilbur forced himself to focus on packing the rest of his things.

Going through his closet he chose a few items to bring with him and forced him to leave the rest behind.

_Ignore the memories they represented_

His hand snagged when he reached a particular item. A pendent. Hand made. The pendant was heart shaped and etched into it a small message.

_'love you, dumbass'_

Another short of pain shot through wilburs body and he quickly chucked the pendant into his pocket, unable to look at it any longer.

Grabbing the backpack Wilbur turned his attention towards Fundy. Luckily for Wilbur, his son was asleep and so Wilbur made quick work of wrapping the child to himself. A makeshift baby carrier of sorts.

A laugh bubbled out of wilbur as he looked at himself with a baby strapped to him. Sally would call him ridiculous-

Sally…

Wilburs heart twisted again and the smile fell off his lips.

Gripping the backpack tightly, Wilbur blew out the final candle. He took one last look at his home. The place with so many memories, so many triumphs and joys. Taking a deep breath in, Wilbur turned and stepped out into the inky black night, shutting the wooden door quietly behind him.

____________

Wilburs arms were tired and legs sore but he knew he had to keep going.

He was sick of the dark forest overgrowth, of having to be on constant watch for mobs, of walking with no idea how much further to go. The only thing keeping him going was the tiny figure strapped to his chest.

It was beginning to get dark and the days soft pastel colours were bleeding into the thick grays of night. Wilbur knew he would have to stop soon. He didn't like stopping in the middle of a forest, the past few days he'd managed to find small meadows and clearings but today the thick forest was never ending.

He remembered his Phil's words of caution about forests at night. He remembered being sat down by his father and taught about lighting up an area. He remembered how he had dismissed it as unimportant.

The night was cold as the trees up above blocked out the moon light and the leaves swayed in the wind.

It seemed important now.

Wilbur gently shifted the backpack off of his shoulders and unwrapped Fundy from his chest. His son was still asleep. His son was a quiet fellow.

Grabbing a small blanket and small wooden basket out of his backpack Wilbur swaddled his son and placed him in the makeshift cot.

Turning around Wilbur began clearing a small section to make room for a fire pit. He glanced around, looking for small wood to use as kindling. Luckily the day had been dry so the wood should catch alight easily.

Wilbur stood up and slowly wandered around the small area looking for small bits of wood. His body was so tired. Every movement ached down to his bones.

He yearned to rest, but there was still more to do. He couldn't stop. Couldn't let his mind think.

A loud hiss sounded behind Wilbur. Thoughts forgotten he turned around and his tired eyes glared out into the darkest, scanning the small wooded area.

His heart froze.

The bundle of sticks in his hand fell to the floor.

There, looming over his tiny son stood a massive spider. It's beady eyes shined as they stared at his son and it's mouth gaped wide.

Wilbur could feel his breath quicken. He couldn't lose someone else. He couldn't have the spider take him. He couldn't lose his son.

Scanning his surrounding Wilbur spotted a large rock on the floor and he didn't even think before grabbing the sharp thing. Wilbur ran at the large monster, the rock gripped tightly in his hands.

His mind was empty and blank. The only thing that was important right now was his son.

Wilbur reached up and brought the heavy rock down onto the spider. A hideous cracking noise sounded from the creatures patchy head and it let out an inhuman, gargled hiss.

Watching as the beast slowly turned, Wilbur lifted the rock again and smashed it back down. and again. and again. and again until the creature was nothing but a still black carcass lying prone on the floor.

As his hands shook, wilbur dropped the rock and stared in horror. Of course he had killed mobs before but never- but never like that. Never with such vicious anger or powerful hatred.

His hands were stained with thick yellow blood.

Wilbur could feel bile rise in his throat and his eyes felt wet and warm. His breath came quick and fast and he could feel his hands trembling like a fragile leaf.

A gentle gurgle sounded from the floor besides the still warm corpse bringing Wilbur back to earth. Looking down he could see his son staring at him, wide brown eyes bright with curiousity. Wilbur let out a small sob and hurriedly lifted his son, drawing him close to his chest.

Heart pounding rapidly and eyes clenched tight, all Wilbur could do was hold his son close and breath in small trembling breaths.

Fundy was warm. His fur was soft under Wilburs fingers. His tiny hands were clenched around his blanket.

Wilbur couldn't imagine if he hadn't turned in time, if the monster had been a second faster. And if-

If Fundy hadn't made it.

A small gasp of air escaped him and Wilbur forced his breath to calm as he slowly sank to the floor, body holding tight to his small son.

He could never let that happen.

It was a long cold night after that. The trees whispered harshly, every shadow seemed longer and every flicker of movement made him flinch. Wilbur needed to build a fire, he needed to find a place to lie down, he couldn't stop, he couldn't STOP-

But all Wilbur could bring himself to do that inky black night was hold his son close until the sun eventually rose.

________

When Wilbur finally reached his destination all he felt was bone tired exhaustion.

It had been a long journey to get here and now they were finally here Wilbur couldn't even feel joy. Just long, empty apathy.

And Fundy-

Fundy was the only reason he was still moving forwards, the only reason why he could keep stepping on foot in front of the other despite exhaustion that ran so deep it felt like his spirit itself was tired.

The city was grey, so grey.

A lot was grey to Wilbur nowadays.

Tall high buildings rose into the air and littered the skyline with ugly concrete blocks. Each building had a look of wear and tear about it - as if it had once been cared about but had since been neglected. Chimneys pumped thick black smoke into the smoggy air.

It was not what Wilbur was used to, that's for sure.

Wilbur pulled Fundy closer to himself as he wandered through the small windey alleyways of the crowded city. He needed to find somewhere to sleep, somewhere to make his new home. The cold coins tucked away in his pockets clinked conspicuously together.

Even though it was midday the air around the city was so littered with smoke that the sky still appeared an ashy grey.

Despite being surrounded by people, Wilbur had never felt more alone.

After walking through the windy streets for a little longer Wilbur spotted a small cardboard sign haphazardly placed in front of a scratched apartment door.

 _"Rooms for rent: inquire inside"_ the sign stated, bluntly. The scrawl was messy and fast and some of the ink had begun to leak down the sign.

Wilbur sighed to himself, it looks like this was his best bet.

Edging his way inside, Wilbur glanced around the lobby. It was a small and garish thing with tacky fake gold covering the ugly grey surfaces and curtains, that he was sure had once been festive, now covered in a black layer of dust and mold.

Directly facing the door was an office type area and behind it a winding step of steep stairs that Wilbur assumed lead up to the apartments.

Walking slowly up to the desks Wilbur looked around for whoever ran the place.

"Hello?" He called out, his voice dry and cracking. Only silence answered him. "Is anyone there?" He asked again and again only silence replied.

Wilbur stood awkwardly in the hall for a few minutes waiting for some kind of response however none came. He was half considering walking out and looking for somewhere else when finally-

"What's it you want?" A loud brash voice sounded from behind the counter. Wilbur jumped slightly and turned.

Standing behind the counter was a small, stocky man. His brows were furrowed and eyes deep set. He looked to be about 40 if the grey hair told Wilbur anything however his sleek backed hair told a story of a man who was trying to hide such age from the world.

"Oh, uh- I've been looking for a place to stay and I noticed your sign outside so I was coming in to ask about it." Wilbur stated politely.

The man looked at wilbur with deep consideration in his eyes. Wilbur couldn't help but fidget under the man's gaze and the thick awkward silence that surrounded him.

"You ain't from round here, is you boy?" The man asked rhetorically. His thin lips had upturned into a small smirk. A smirk with promised nothing good.

"I'm not from here exactly, no" Wilbur replied, now extremely conscious of how over annunciated each of his words were. He'd always been proud of his "received pronunciation" however now it did not seem like the complimentative quality it used to.

The man leaned forward, resting his wide head on his sweaty palms and grinned widely, being sure to show all of his teeth. Wilbur spotted how on his teeth their rested gold plating, similar to that which covered the rest of the lobby.

"Interesting." The man almost purred while staring at wilbur. Wilbur shifted again, lifting Fundy up slightly as he did so. He could see the man's gaze slip down and focus on the child and how his smile almost widened as he saw him.

"My, my, my. What is that?" The man asked, a suspiciously light tone coating his voice.

"That's my son." Wilbur said firmly. He refused to tell the man anymore then what was necessary.

"I see…" the man said slowly and looked at wilbur before tapping the side of his old decrepit desk, "it'll be extra for the brat." The man said bluntly, his eyes glittering with greed. Wilbur couldn't even bring himself to be annoyed. He was too tired.

"Whatever," Wilbur said, slowly producing the thick bag of coins from his coat pocket, "How much?" He asked.

Wilbur realised his mistake as soon as he saw the man's eyes widen when he looked at the bad. The man was barely holding back his greed laden surprise, practically salivating over the money that it held within it.

"For you…5 gold coins for a fortnight." The man said, his grin widening and bushy eyebrows rising.

 _"5 GOLD? FOR 2 WEEKS!?"_ the reasonable part of wilbur screamed. " _THATS EXTORTIONATE"_ it yelled.

Wilbur knew that he was being swindled but he couldn't bring himself to care.

His bones ached with exhaustion and he could feel Fundy beginning to fuss in his arms.

He just wanted to rest.

"Sure, okay…" Wilbur said. His voice was layered with exhaustion and he reached into the bag and chucked the 5 coins down, not even caring as the man chuckled and reached a sweaty hand out to swipe up the coins.

"Perfect. We's got us a deal." The man (his landlord now, Wilbur supposed) said jovially. He reached behind the counter and Wilbur could hear the jangling of keys. The man stood himself back up and gestured Wilbur to follow him as he walked towards the stairs.

As Wilbur followed him, the thick scent of cigarette smoke filled his nose. He almost coughed and made sure to pull Fundy closer to himself.

The hallways were dingy and badly lit with gas lanterns. Once they would have been pretty but after years of neglect the floors and decoration looked sad and worn down.

"This is gon' be yours" the man said pointing at a small shabby door. "But before I give you these-" he jingled the keys in front of Wilburs tired eyes, "let's lay out the rules." The man licked his lips and smirked down at wilbur.

"People here don't want hear your brat screaming at night. Keep 'im quiet." His landlords tone was dark and threatening. Wilbur held Fundy tight. "And if you is late on your rent don't be asking me to stay. If you can't pay you's is out. I don't want no freeloaders" the man almost spat the word.

"Like I says earlier, you ent from round here but you'll soon learn the basics. Keep your head down and stay quiet." The man grinned, showing off his rotten yellow teeth, "no one here cares about you. They don't give a shit about you. You don't matter." He said, matter of factly.

He reached out the keys and dropped them into Wilburs waiting hands.

"I'll see you in two weeks." He taunted before sauntering off back downstairs.

Wilbur stood in the middle of the dark, cramped hallway for a minute. He clenched the keys tightly in his hand and let out a small breath before turning towards the door.

When Wilbur walked inside the apartment the first thing he noticed was it's sparce nature. It held everything that would be expected: a small wooden table that, by the looks of things, could barely sit one; a small gas stove that was covered in a layer of smoke; a bed that had a threadbare cover thrown across it (Wilbur didn't even want to know about the last time it was washed.)

This was it.

This was home.

Setting Fundy down on the bed, Wilbur slowly let his backpack slip off his shoulders. He ignored the loud crack they gave when he rolled them back.

Slowly padding into the "kitchen" (which was really only separated from the bedroom with a thin curtain) Wilbur reached into his pockets and brought out a small white powder mix.

Powdered milk. He only had a few left from what the midwife had given him but it would last for tonight.

Rifling through the draws Wilbur found a small beaten up pot. He lifted it to the sink and watched it slowly fill with water. He ignored the grey tinge to the water and how the sink sputtered and coughed.

He ruffled around and found a small box of damp matches. After breaking a few he finally found one that would light and used it to light up the gas stove and from that a few candles which he placed around the darkened room.

Slowly bringing the water to simmer, Wilbur placed the powder inside and watched it swirl around. After a few minutes he dipped a pinky in to test the temperature.

As shitty as it was, even the worst stove was better than trying to do this on an open flame.

Once Wilbur had poured the white mixture into a small bottle he made his way over to his son.

Gently lifting Fundy up, he could see how his son was beginning to squirm and how his face made a pout of hunger. Wilbur lifted up a finger and let out a small laugh as Fundy began sucking it as if it were a bottle of milk.

He pulled his finger back and slowly lifted the bottle into fundys mouth. Wilbur had fed him earlier but if you were watching him now you would have believed that wilbur was starving him.

Wilbur let out a small chuckle as he watched his son gulp down the milk and leaned down to give him a small kiss on the head.

When Wilbur was younger he believed that he knew love.

He has been out with many pretty ladies and spent many a late night dancing, singing and flirting with the fairer sex. He had always let himself be whisked away in the fantasy of love and it had filled his life for many years.

However even the strongest, most passionate love he had shared looked weak compared to how he felt towards the small infant in his arms. It was like comparing a candle to the blazing strength of a sun - it just wasn't possible.

When Fundy was done Wilbur lowered the bottle and placed it on the bedside table before lifting Fundy up and winding him over his shoulder. He could feel the young infant become more and more still in his arms and he rocked slowly side to side to ease his son to sleep.

There was no cot to lay his son in so for tonight he would be sleeping by Wilburs side. Part of Wilburs heart constricted at the thought of ever letting him leave that place, even though he knew it was irrational.

Wilbur wrapped Fundy tight in his small blankets and then forced himself to stand and blow out all the candles he had lit in the small damp apartment.

It was cold and empty.

It wasn't home.

But as wilbur crept into bed with the slow breaths of his son by his side, he couldn't bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed and, again, please let me know if I've gotten anything slightly wrong!


End file.
